


What a Drag Queensman

by Mochas N Mayhem (KoohiiCafe)



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Arthur is a shady bitch, Drag Queens, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, as is Merlin, but Harry is fierce, sex in drag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 20:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6344743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoohiiCafe/pseuds/Mochas%20N%20Mayhem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alright, here's the tea; Arthur was being <i>real shady</i> when he assigned Harry's next mission, but let me tell you, hunty, there ain't no stopping a fierce byotch like Galahad. Harry is gonna <i>werk</i> it, baby, and he's going to be absolutely <i>sickening</i>. By the end of it all, there won't be a single person who's not <i>gagging</i> on Harry's ele<i>gan</i>za- Merlin included!</p><p>Gentlemen... Start your engines! And may the best <i>Queensman</i> win!</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Drag Queensman

**Author's Note:**

> ... I have been watching _way_ too much RuPaul's Drag Race. I blame Ru, and that gifset going around with Colin saying he lived for drag. I'm not even sorry for this. Not in the _slightest_.

If Arthur had expected him to protest or balk at the assignment, then the ‘king’ certainly didn’t know Harry nearly as well as he should have. Not that that was much of a surprise, really; there was a great deal about his knights that Chester King didn’t know, and he had a terrible habit of underestimating them. Instead of the surprise the man was surely waiting for _(it was clearly meant to be a punishment, given he was assigning Harry this mission a day after they’d had a rather heated debate about proper post-mission protocol_ ), Harry tilted his head and let the corners of his lips quirk up ever so slightly.

“Understood,” he answered smoothly, and then nodded to Merlin, not so much as looking at their leader. “Merlin, if you would, I believe there are some preparations I need to make.”

“Of course, Galahad,” the Scotsman replied in turn, and Harry knew that Arthur was too dense to pick up the note of amusement in the words. “I’ll finish up with Arthur and join you shortly.”

“I’ll see you then.” Pulling back from his seat and standing then, he gave a crisp nod to Arthur- still without actually looking at the man- and turned to leave the dining room. He didn’t have to look back to know the look of frustration that Chester would be trying to hide, not when he’d seen it more than often enough over the past few decades. The man dearly hated when things didn’t go as he’d wanted them to, and he especially hated it when _Harry_ didn’t go as he wanted him to, so the fact that Harry had given him no reaction would be sure to have his knickers in a twist.

Besides. Merlin would be recording the look himself for posterity; Harry could always simply review his glasses feed later.

The thought drew his smirk a little wider, and the look stayed in place as he strolled through the shop to Fitting Room One, as he descended the lift and boarded the train, and as he disembarked and made his way to the costuming department to peruse his options.

That’s where he was when, half an hour later, Merlin had finished with Arthur and come to join him. Harry didn’t turn away from his examination of a lovely burgundy fabric, but instead asked;

“What do you think? This velvet, or the sequined emerald? Both are quite lovely. I believe the velvet would be more comfortable, but I’m not sure it’s flashy enough for the mission.”

“Why not both?” He could feel the other man come up behind him, the warmth of him as he settled just at his side, their arms a hair’s breadth from touching; they were, after all, in ‘public,’ where anyone in Kingsman could come across them, and it was best to keep a semblance of propriety. That their relationship was common knowledge was immaterial. “Maybe with the violet sequins here as well?”

The other man reached for the indicated fabric, lifting the tail end of it from the bolt to hold up against the emerald and burgundy. Harry nodded approvingly, unsurprised that Merlin had an eye for this- and unsurprised that Merlin himself was unsurprised. Unlike Arthur, Merlin was observant when it came to the knights, and particularly so when it came to his lover.

“Ahh yes; a very nice combination. With the burgundy as the central color, both the emerald and violet would give it an excellent pop. There would certainly be no question as to the shine of the gown.”

“The velvet is a stronger fabric as well; both are bulletproof, but it will provide better protection than the sequins alone.” Merlin paused for a moment, brushing Harry’s arm in a manner that could only be intentional as he reached to pick up the bolt of velvet. As he rubbed his fingers over it to get a feel for the fabric himself, he looked to meet Harry’s eyes. “What style gown are you considering?”

“A mermaid silhouette would be fitting for a queen of my persona’s standing; elegant and refined, and a reflection of my age and experience within the community.”

“Mmmmm.” There was a flicker of something in his lover’s gaze, a heat that shone for but a moment before he set the bolt down again, this time off to one side, separating it out cleanly. “The sequins would work well as a corset; with the right measurements, it would accentuate your waist without needing to be tightly cinched and without hampering your movement.”

Oh, now that was an intriguing revelation; Merlin quite clearly liked the thought of Harry in the gown in question. Humming lightly and lifting the bolts of emerald and violet sequins, he filed that thought away for later, for after the mission. Sex was one thing he hadn’t done in drag before, but he wasn’t particularly adverse to the thought, and especially not with Merlin. For the moment, however, he had a mission.

 

* * *

 

It was over a month later before the mission was finally over, and a harrowing month it had been. Finding himself in complete seclusion with thirteen drag queens would have been trying enough; add to that the fact that one of them was a spy planted to assassinate the competition’s sponsor... 

But that was neither here nor there, really. It was done. He’d foiled the assassin and managed to get himself eliminated before he made the final three- or perhaps even won the competition, if it wasn’t too prideful to think- and was finally back in London. And while there was one part of him that, after the last month or so, was ready to hang up his gown and wig and not touch the damn things for several years… he also quite vividly remembered the interest Merlin had let slip while they were preparing for the mission, as well as how heated their final night had been before he left. He’d made a plan then, and he had no intention of shirking it now.

The costume department had provided him with a rather extensive wardrobe for the mission and, given that there wasn’t that much call for bulletproof drag even within Kingsman, it was his to keep- including the gown he’d worn for his last challenge, one done in lovely shades of burgundy, emerald, and violet. It was that gown with which he intended to implement his plan.

It began with the makeup, of course. He went for a light look for the evening; there was no stage or camera to worry about, and with how physically taxing the night would be, he had no desire to have makeup dripping or smearing. He used minimal contouring, only enough to highlight his cheekbones; a dark burgundy lip with a darker purple lipliner, almost black, to match the dress; thick black eyeliner with a set of full false lashes; eyeshadow that faded out from a deep, dark, rich violet to carefully pencilled in eyebrows. He opted to forgo a wig, given the circumstances, and instead let his hair fall into the natural curls that he tamed on a daily basis; Merlin rather enjoyed his curls, as rare as Harry let them be, and it worked well with his look.

Undergarments came next. His plans for the evening meant he could do with merely a pair of gaffs, rather than a full tuck, for which he was _quite_ thankful. Spending over a month tucking was enough to last him quite awhile. He added a corset next, this one a simple black; not nearly as flashy as most of his wardrobe, but it was more functional as a _corset_. Quite skilled with tightening it himself by this point, and with no assassin to worry about, Harry made it a point to cinch himself tighter than he had been, made it a point to create more of a dramatic waistline than his already well fit natural waist.

Then, finally, the gown.

He’d designed it with Merlin’s assistance, and had made it himself, putting his seldom utilized tailoring skills to good use. It had a mermaid silhouette, as he’d originally planned, done in the deep burgundy velvet, the neckline a low sweetheart to emphasize his bust, sleeveless and one-shouldered. The underbust corset atop it was done in the emerald and violet sequins, an intricate swirling design that ran the length of it from his bust to his hips which, without any extra padding for tonight, were emphasized by the under-corset. The skirt clung to those hips beneath, that lovely burgundy again, only to flare out at his knees finally, a bit of a train falling to the floor to trail and a slit that ran nearly to the edge of the corset. He’d used the violet sequins to form little flower formations that followed the slit down to the train of the dress, and the emerald sequins had been added to the shoulder of the gown in the same flowers. Emerald sequinned heels finished the look, and then he was ready.

 

* * *

 

All it took to bring Merlin home was a single text to let him know he was waiting; for once, after so long apart, he didn’t have to pry his lover from his keyboards finger by finger. He was in his office when he heard the other man let himself in, sat behind his desk with his laptop open; he didn’t stand or call down or otherwise greet the man, but rather shifted his chair deliberately forward. The sound of the wheels would alert the Scot to his location. And, sure enough, after a brief rustling in the foyer, the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs reached his ears. A moment later, he could see as Merlin reached the top of the stairs and rounded the bannister to come to the office door and-

And stop just within it. Stop and stare at the sight Harry presented. Harry in full drag, in an evening gown, settled at his desk as if it were just another evening home.

Fire flashed through the man’s eyes, his head tilting forward and just slightly to one side, his gaze running over what he could see of Harry from where he stood, and Harry felt it _acutely_. There were few that could affect him the way Merlin could, few that could take him apart with a single look, could make him feel like they saw through to the depths of him, but the look he was being given just now?

He suppressed the shiver of anticipation that threatened to run through him, instead tilting his own head, leaning back in his chair, the corners of his lips drawing up ever so slightly to a smirk.

“Welcome home, Merlin. I’d wondered how long you’d take to arrive.” His voice was light, conversational, easy. Merlin’s was anything but when he replied;

“If I’d known ye were waiting for me like this, I’d’ve come sooner.” Instead his voice was deep, full of promise, his accent thickened already. It wasn’t the only part of him thickened either, a quick look down the quartermaster’s fit body told; the tailored trousers beneath his jumper hid nothing. Merlin stepped forward, further into the room, closer towards Harry, and there was something predatory in his movement, in the way he held himself.

Good. That was _exactly_ what he wanted. His smirk grew a little and he shifted in his chair, moving to cross one leg over the other. The movement shifted the dress enough to let the slit of the gown fall open, revealing the smooth bare skin of his leg beneath. The sound that the movement tore from his lover was almost a growl, and Merlin demanded;

“Why didn’t ye call me sooner?”

“It did take some time to dress,” Harry answered mildly, blinking innocently at the other man. Merlin moved again, and it wasn’t a mere step this time, but a stalk all the way to the edge of the desk.

“ _Up_ ,” he ordered, with a tone that brooked no disobedience. “I want to see all of ye, _now_.”

Harry considered disobeying anyway. Another almost-growl made him bite back an even bigger smirk, and he uncrossed his legs. A moment later he was sliding easily up to his feet, his stance unwavering despite the considerable heels upon which he stood. He didn’t stop there, oh no. He moved around the desk to meet his lover, and he took some amusement in the way that he towered several inches over the other man with his heels. He took a _thrill_ in the way Merlin had to look _up_ to meet his eyes. For however long that was to last, of course, until they no longer remained vertical, and he had no doubt that that moment would come quite shortly.

“Do you like what you see, darling?”

“Ye know I do,” was the dark answer, and then there was a hand along his jaw, another sliding around his neck to entangle in the short curls at the nape of his neck, and he was being dragged down into a deep kiss. He gave himself to it fully, his lips parting as a questing tongue swept across them, his own arm dropping to wrap around Merlin’s back and settle there, pulling him close.

Merlin kissed like Harry fought, as elegant and graceful as hard and indomitable, taking no prisoners, making a show of it that no one could ever fail to be in awe of, and Harry was certainly no exception. He lost himself in that kiss, in the heat of his lover molded against him, in the firm length of the other man’s arousal pressed against his hip, in the hard pull of fingers in his hair, the unbreakable hold on his jaw, the crush of lips, the way Merlin licked his way inside his mouth, withdrawing only to bite roughly at his lip instead, and it was all Harry could do to keep his groan of need to only a groan. Then he was biting back, nipping at Merlin’s lips this time, his other hand sliding down to dig fingers into his hip as he held to him tightly, rolling his own hips against his lover as a tease. There was another growl, and then Merlin was tearing himself back, and the look he pinned Harry with sent a thrill of sheer desire coursing through him.

“Bedroom. _Now_.”

“Is that any way to speak to a lady?” Harry asked innocently. His answer was a smirk and a low, dark laugh.

“When I see a lady, I’ll let ye know. Now _get_.”

“I feel like I should be offended,” Harry laughed in return, even as he stepped around his lover to move to the office door and through it. He made sure to brush against him deliberately, to let one perfectly manicured hand run along Merlin’s body when he did, grazing briefly across the obvious bulge in his trousers. Before his lover could react, he was past him, out of the office and moving down the hallway towards his bedroom door, a light reply floating back behind him; “If not a lady, then what would you call me?”

He’d made it through the bedroom door, just turning around to look back, by the time Merlin caught up to him to answer;

“ _Mine_.”

Then the other man was pushing him back, towards the bed, backing him up until the back of his knees hit the bed. He kept Harry anchored with another deep, heated kiss, with a hand once more tangling in his curls. The other hand dropped to push aside the slit of the dress, to run across the smooth, bare skin of his thigh beneath.

“And _you_ ,” Harry returned between kisses, turning the exchange into a battle of sorts, fighting bitingly back against Merlin’s complete and utter domination of his lips, “are _mine_.”

To prove his point, he dropped one hand swiftly to work the fastenings of his lover’s trousers, getting them undone in record time, so he could slip inside and wrap skilled fingers around his heated cock and give him one firm stroke. Merlin gave a choked sound, tensing, the hand on his thigh gripping _bruisingly_ tight. Then, not to be outdone, Merlin’s hand was shifting, releasing his thigh to dip between his legs instead, to run teasingly through his pants along where he was tucked. Harry hissed sharply, keeping his hips still by force of will. Merlin smirked, leaned close into his ear to whisper;

“So responsive, ye are. How long has it been since ye were touched by a hand that’s not yer own? Maybe I should keep ye like this more often.”

“Like _hell_ ,” Harry growled through gritted teeth when Merlin’s stroked along his trapped cock again, and _shit_. “I’d like to see you try.”

“That could be arranged,” the Scot threatened. Then, before Harry could even begin to reply, the hand was gone from his hair and Merlin was using _both_ hands to push open his gown, to push the heavy velvet up his thighs, up past his hips and bunched over the bottom of the corset. Not even a second after, there were fingers hooked into the top of the gaff he wore, and his lover was pulling them down with an almost surprising gentleness. The long, low groan Harry made was one of pure relief.

Then Merlin was pushing it down, past his knees, far enough that it could fall the rest of the way and Harry could kick the damn thing off. His lover’s hands moved back to his hips again as an anchor, a steady point as he shifted on his heels, before sliding up his body to settle at his shoulders, and there with a light pressure downwards. Harry let him push, followed the pressure to his knees, and he could only imagine how he must look from Merlin’s perspective.

Full drag, on his knees with his gown bunched around his waist, his cock finally free and rapidly filling, and just before his eyes- Merlin’s trousers open, his pants straining forward with the weight of his cock, and _god_ he needed the feel of it against his lips _now_. Heedless of how his lipstick would stain against the pants, Harry moved then, ducking his head forward to mouth along his clothed erection, tonguing at him through the thin fabric.

The moan Merlin let loose, the way his hands shifted from his shoulders to bury in his hair, was _well_ worth it. Harry wasted no time in reaching up, in dragging his trousers down first, then his pants, and there was _nothing_ more rewarding than the sight of his lover’s thick cock bobbing free.

“I want to see those painted lips stretched wide around my cock,” Merlin rumbled, and the words sent his blood rushing southwards far faster than before.

“As you wish,” Harry replied, his voice saccharine sweet. A moment later he gripped at Merlin’s hips, leaned forward, and took that gorgeous cock as deep as he could, swallowing him almost to the root. The way he could feel Merlin’s hips try to jerk in his grasp, the sharp inhalation from his lover, was almost as satisfying as the taste of him heavy on his tongue, the feel of him, and he rolled his eyes up to catch the other man’s gaze as he groaned. The fingers in his hair tightened sharply, a painful pull that only encouraged him, as did the way Merlin’s eyes darkened with pleasure. He hummed in response, keeping his grip on the other man’s hips strong, holding him still to keep him from thrusting deeper. It was _his_ turn to tease, and Merlin had no one to blame but himself.

“ _Harry_ …” His name was a groan on the Scot’s lips, and when he couldn’t push his hips forward he changed tactics, trying to use his grip in Harry’s hair instead. Despite the pain, Harry stiffened his neck, fighting against the pull; he dug his fingers deeper into the other man’s hips, letting his nails dig in as a warning. It was warning enough, the grip in his hair- not loosening, but no longer pulling as he had been. Harry chuckled around him with his victory, then hollowed his cheeks as he suckled at him in reward. There was a choked sound, fingernails scraping along his scalp, and a gasped; “ _Gods_ , I’ve missed ye.”

Only then, satisfied that his lover would fight him no further, did Harry release his tight grip on Merlin’s hips. One hand slid down instead to cup his sack, fondling gently at his balls, letting them roll between his fingers, and he began to move his head at the same time. His eyes remained locked upward onto Merlin, as he slowly pulled back, humming again, running his tongue along the underside of him and tracing meaningless patterns against the sensitive, silken skin there. He was just as slow when he descended once more, then a touch faster when he pulled back, a shade quicker when he ducked down again. Setting a slowly speeding pace, continuing to cup and caress his balls, continuing to tease with his tongue, even a barest touch of teeth, faster and faster, until Merlin was again gripping tight enough at his hair to drag his head back up. This time he let him, let the man’s cock pull from his lips with an obscene sounding _pop_ , and he knew… No matter how he’d looked on his knees before, it was nothing compared to the view his lover would have now, with his hair thoroughly wild from Merlin’s fingers, his lipstick smeared and staining both his _and_ Merlin’s skin now, his eyes dark and hooded with lust and need. His tongue darted out, swiping across his lips, seeking whatever taste of Merlin might remain there, and Merlin growled.

“On the bed.” The words were an order, and when Harry started to reach for the fastenings of his corset, the command was followed by, “Just as ye are now.”

Harry couldn’t stop the laugh he let out at the demand, but he let his hands fall away from the corset almost obediently, instead standing and letting the heavy velvet of his gown fall down once more. If his cock, heavy and full and at full mast, made an obscene bulge in the fabric as he moved to climb backwards onto the bed, then so be it. _Merlin_ certainly didn’t seem to mind, judging by the way his eyes flared with arousal, the way he seemed unable to tear his gaze from Harry even as he moved to retrieve the lube from the draw of the nightstand.

“You know, of course, that the gown I worked so hard on will be _ruined_ if it’s not hung properly,” Harry remarked mildly, settling himself atop the bed with legs extended, one knee bent up to let the slit of the dress fall open, supporting himself with his elbows behind him. Merlin snorted.

“Oh it’s _hung_ alright,” he snarked. Then he was divesting himself of his jumper and the shirt beneath quickly, dropping them to the floor, shoving his trousers and pants the rest of the way down, toeing out of his shoes and socks to step out of the trousers. Mere seconds later, it felt like, he was crawling onto the bed towards Harry. No, not crawling; the movement was more like a great cat stalking through a wild field, sinuous and predatory, leaving no doubt as to how its prey would be utterly consumed.

“I’ll make ye another one myself,” he said, and dropped the lube onto the comforter before surging forward. He shoved the gown back up roughly to Harry’s hips, heedless of the delicate sequins embroidered along the slit, heedless of the way it pulled at the seams of it when it took a bit of strength to free it from where it was pinned beneath Harry. He was bending his head next, taking one heeled foot in hand and lifting it to kiss and mouth at his skin above the straps. Lust darkened eyes flicked up to Harry when he bit lightly at the sensitive skin just above his ankle, drawing a soft hiss from him, and Merlin began to kiss, lick, and nip his way up and along his smooth legs.

It was perfect and terrible at the same time, the feel of his lover’s mouth on him again after so bloody long, the promise of what that mouth was capable of, especially as he drew closer and closer to his cock, and Harry spread his legs obligingly to make room for him. When he avoided it completely, there was a noise of protest pulled from his lips without thought- one that was silenced when Merlin dipped, instead, to tongue at his perineum, then lower and past it. He laved at the tight ring of muscle there, licking over, around, his hands coming up to push open his cheeks, and Harry’s breath caught in his throat, air coming in short, shallow pants, when the other man speared his tongue _past_ it to lick inside him.

It was Harry’s turn, then, to groan out Merlin’s name, his elbows collapsing beneath him as he fell back flat to the bed. The Scot chuckled darkly, the laugh vibrating against his skin, and licked into him again before pulling back, and licking a line up his perineum again, over his balls, up the underside of his cock.

“As I said,” the man smirked, squeezing at his arse. “Yer so wonderfully responsive like this. I rather like having ye this way.”

He let go of him, reaching for the lube, and it was over the quiet _schnict_ of the bottle opening that Harry growled back; “I would advise you not to get used to it; I have no intentions of going for so long as that again.”

Because god only knew, if it hadn’t been for the paper thin walls of the hotel rooms, making him privy to every single happening in the rooms of the other queens- and making _them_ privy to any happenings in _his_ room- he would _not_ have forgone masturbating for so long, nor would he have gone for so long without his lover’s voice in his ear over the glasses feed.

“I think we’ll see about that,” Merlin answered, dark promise in his voice, and then there was a slick digit pressing into him before Harry could think to protest. A moment later the man was curling his finger forward, seeking his prostate with long familiarity, and it was through a groan of pleasure that Harry hissed back;

“ _Fuck_ , we will, you _bastard_.”

Another laugh, low and victorious, and Merlin gave him no time to adjust, no time to regain himself, rocking his finger back and forth, making sure to find his prostate each time. A second finger was quickly added, beginning to stretch him open as his other hand found his cock and he stroked firmly in time with his fingers. It was too much, too soon, after too long without, and Harry’s eyes rolled back, his fingers grasping at the heavy velvet of his gown where it was pushed up around his hips. He was reduced to gasps and groans, sounds of pure need, as a third finger was pushed within him, Merlin’s years worth of knowledge with his body letting him know _exactly_ when Harry had had enough. Far too soon he was pulling his fingers back and out, to a moan of protest from the man himself.

“ _Don’t you dare st_ -”

“Oh I don’t intend to,” he interrupted in answer, and Harry felt the blunt head of his cock pressing against him. A moment later, with a snap of his hips, he was thrusting into him roughly, and _moving_. He didn’t bother teasing any longer, both of them too in need for it, patience gone, and he set an almost harsh pace.

Harry met him thrust for thrust, a hand leaving his gown to reach up and draw Merlin down to him, pulling him to press bare chest to sequinned corset, pulling him down to captured his lips and _ravage_ them. His other hand ran up to grip again at his lover’s hip, squeezing there, before sliding around to grope at his arse.

It was too good, too _perfect_ , for either of them to last long. It was Harry who tipped Merlin over first, bearing down on his cock tightly, forcing a strangled sound from the man’s throat, and then he was thrusting in for the last time, burying himself as deep as he could as his shuddering climax rolled through him. It was that last thrust, the head of his cock moving over his prostate one last time, and the way Merlin’s hand on his own cock tightened and spasmed through his last stroke, that pushed Harry over. He came _hard_ , shuddering, a white-out of pleasure as he spilled himself over Merlin’s hand, over the burgundy velvet of his gown, further onto the emerald and violet sequins of his corset.

Then they were collapsing together, rolling together so Merlin wouldn’t crush him, his lover’s sweat slick body pressing to him, an arm wrapping around him. They lay together, panting, breathing harshly, enjoying the feel of being pressed together. Recovering. Later Merlin would pull out and break their connection. Later Harry would undo the corset, get out of the gown, strip off the undercorset. Later, once they had enough energy, one of them would get up and go to the ensuite for a towel to clean them both up. For now…

“You owe me a new dress,” Harry mumbled, leaning his forehead to Merlin’s. A huffed laugh was his answer, and a;

“Oh I think ye’ll be in this dress again, if I have to put ye in it myself.”

Harry snorted and silenced him with a sloppy, tired kiss. Later. They could deal with that later.

**Author's Note:**

> Your prize, for making it through this thing, is a bit of crack. Have [Harry Hart](https://40.media.tumblr.com/572d0efa198a776c629ebc96e1e7e730/tumblr_o4kbmuYsUM1qg10vlo1_540.jpg) as seen when put through [RuPaul's Dragulator](http://www.dragulator.com/), and the closest I could get to [the gown Merlin and Harry ruined](https://41.media.tumblr.com/2c8f8fa17abb805dfd279791840c9a7a/tumblr_o4kbmuYsUM1qg10vlo2_1280.jpg).
> 
> Also... If you're on tumblr, you can find me at [MakethWoman](http://makethwoman.tumblr.com)! If you still want to after this piece of crack. XD


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